Bitter As The Grave
by Morwen Tindomerel
Summary: A noble lady with a surprising link to Cadfael guests at Shrewsbury abbey, as does the elder brother of his current assistant, a young baron with an eye for the ladies, resulting in The usual murders and romances.
1. Chapter 1

**The morning chapter on the 24th day of July in the year of our Lord 1142 was enlivened by the appearance of a livery man come as harbinger for his lady. The unaccustomed ring of spurs against the stone floor of the chapter house roused Brother Cadfael from his pleasant half doze behind his pillar and set him leaning forward for a better look at the visitor bowing before Abbot Radulfus. **

**He was a fine nut-brown fellow, no older than thirty but already weathered and experienced. Not a serving man but a man at arms with leather brigandine beneath a scarlet surcote marked over the left breast with a small white cross. His abiding sin of curiosity, sharply wetted, Cadfael stretched his ears to catch every word of the petition. For he knew that device, long ago he had seen it on banners set upon the towers and battlements of Jerusalem.**

"**My lord abbot," the man began respectful but in no way diffident. "I come from my lady de Joyeaux to ask the hospitality of this house for herself and her train."**

**A ripple of excitement passed through the ranks of the watching brothers. Glancing aside toward Radulfus Cadfael saw Prior Robert's silvery beauty brighten perceptibly at the prospect of so notable a guest. **

**My Lord de Joyeaux had been born second son to a northern baron and like many such sought his fortune in the east, becoming a lord and paladin of Jerusalem and owner of a name and fame that had made the long journey back over half the world to his homeland. The deaths of father and elder brother had brought him after it to take seisin of his hereditary lands in Cheshire and Lancashire, bringing with him a glamorous and exotic wife of eastern origin who had won herself a name of her own in the alarms and excursions of this civil war.**

**Abbot Radulfus' dark, angular features revealed nothing beyond courtesy as he replied; "This house's hospitality is free to all, regardless of rank."**

"**My lady knows that, my lord," her man answered stoutly. "But her company is large and your guesthouse like to be crowded as St. Peter's fair approaches. She thought it wise as well as courteous to give due warning that she might seek other accommodation should it prove needful."**

**Alarm ruffled the fine, patrician serenity of the prior bringing a dew to his ivory brow at the though of loosing so prestigious a guest. "If I may, Father Abbot. The first house beyond the mill pond is commodious, untenanted and most suitable for the accommodation my lady de Joyeaux." **

**True. The largest of the Abbey's grace houses had been empty and profitless - and a source of pain to Robert - since the loss of the Bonel tenancy nigh on four years ago now.**

**Radulfus considered briefly, then nodded. "A good thought, Robert." He turned his attention back to the waiting groom. "Say to your lady we are both most willing and well able to entertain her and all she brings with her."**

**----**

**A pleasant sibilance of excitement quivered in the warm air of the great court as the brothers scattered to their duties over and above the happy anticipation usual before the fair. Crossing to the gardens Brother Cadfael saw the Lady de Joyeaux's messenger heading towards the gate, afoot and leading his horse, in deep conversation with Prior Robert. They were followed by a bright faced Brother Jerome hugging himself inside the full sleeves of his gown and all but skipping, showing the exaltation his master was too dignified to reveal. Cadfael smiled to himself. A simple soul indeed their Robert!**

**His present helper was waiting for Cadfael outside the door to his workshop. Brother Helias was a well set up youngster of twenty, just a little taller than his mentor, with an untidy circlet of tow colored hair crowning a high, square brow and level blue eyes balancing a boldly modeled chin and jaw. He came of high blood, a de Say of Clun no less, and was Prior Robert's pride and joy. Cadfael had not yet ceased to wonder at such a paragon being assigned to him. He had however noted that Helias never spoke of home or family and carried himself as if the world and all it contained had ceased to exist so far as he was concerned. Yet today even he showed roused and interested by news of the coming visit. **

"**And what do you know of this lady who proposes to guest with us, Helias?" Cadfael asked. For the de Says were equal in rank to de Joyeaux and held lands in the same counties. **

"**Nothing beyond general report," Helias answered readily enough. "I have never seen her but I hear she is a most pious lady, and a charitable. She and her lord have endowed both churches and hospitals since they returned. And they say the lady tends the sick with her own fair hands, even lepers." Cadfael was impressed in spite himself. The kind of courage that willingly braved infection was far rarer than the simple kind needed for open battle against human foes. **

**Helias went on, voice warming with enthusiasm. "I hear too that they have enshrined a relic of the True Cross and stones from the Holy Sepulcher in their parish church for the veneration of all men."**

"**Have they? Father Prior will not welcome the competition," Cadfael said dryly, and got a reproachful look from his assistant.**

"**Surely Father Robert will be glad to have such a source of Grace near us."**

**And perhaps he would at that. Was not their own abbey and shrine 'on the road' so to speak to Cheadle, de Joyeaux's seat north of Cheshire? Winifred - and Shrewsbury - might well be the gainers.**

"**No doubt you are right, son," Cadfael said soothingly **

**Helias' clouded brow cleared. "Shall I get on with composting the cabbages, Brother?"**

"**Yes, do so." Cadfael watched the youngster trot away to collect spade and mattock with a considering frown of his own. **

**He was not quite easy in his mind about this current acolyte of his. Helias was no unbalanced would-be mystic like Columbanus, nor yet forcing himself into a life for which he was totally unsuited like young Meriet. He kept carefully every detail of the rule but without exaggeration, pursued his studies with clear eyed purpose and was an able and willing helper here in the gardens. But Cadfael could find in him no spark of the God given enthusiasm conferred by a vocation and had no doubt that here was yet another younger son persuaded or pressured into the cloister to keep lands whole.**

**---**

"**The church can prove a good career for a gifted young man." Hugh Beringar observed lazily, accepting a beaker from Cadfael and stretching out his legs to lean back against the workshop wall. "Your Brother Helias may rise high, higher than his brother the baron."**

"**Or be forever imprisoned within walls working at a life for which he was never meant." Cadfael retorted, joining his friend on the shaded bench beneath the eaves. "A grim prospect! The cloister is not meant to provide careers for ambitious youngsters, nor even for honest lads intent on fulfilling every point of what they promise." **

"**And yet such things are done every day," Hugh said and shrugged. "Your Helias is a grown man who knows very well what he is doing and why. The choice is his, not yours, my Cadfael!" **

"**I know. But I hope and wish with all my heart that the boy will think the better of it before it's too late - as all to soon it will be. His final vows are set for St. Oswald's day." Two days after the fair. Cadfael sighed. "And what brings you to us this fine afternoon, never say it was just to drink a stoup of my wine!" **

**Hugh laughed comfortably. "No I've come to confer with my lord abbot over our noble guest."**

**Cadfael's eyebrows rose. "Our?"**

"**Oh yes. I've had word from the lady myself, asking quartering for her men at arms at the castle."**

"**Men at arms?"**

"**A score all told, or so she says." Hugh answered. "I'd expect no less. I hear she carries a treasure of silks and other luxuries with her wherever she goes."**

**Cadfael smiled tolerantly. "Ah, well. Our northern lands must seem cold and gray indeed to the poor girl."**

"**Very likely. They say she's a saracen princess, no less, that Joyeaux took from her kin and converted." **

**Cadfael snorted his skepticism. "Jongleurs' tales! Paynim princesses are none so easily won I promise you."**

"**Oh but she looks the part, Cadfael!" Hugh laughed. "I saw the lady at Canterbury."**

"**Do you tell me so? And what is she like?"**

**Hugh stared at the dark hedge enclosing them conjuring the image of a lady seen only a few times, and briefly, but who had left a most vivid impression. "A small, bright flame of a woman, for all her dark coloring, with a light foot and proud carriage." He smiled reminiscently. "A skin like honey and great liquid eyes that can suck a man into their depths as surely as a peat pool. Oh, and a red, witching mouth that fairly begs for kisses!"**

"**What kind of talk is that from a man happily married to the finest, fairest lady in all of England?" Cadfael demanded startled and indignant. **

**Hugh laughed again. "Oh, no lady living is a match for my Aline! But you will not deny that there are other fine looking women in the world, nor my right to acknowledge the fact?"**

"**No," Cadfael granted, though perhaps a touch grudgingly. "And why would you guess she chooses now to favor us with her presence?"**

"**I don't need to guess, her man told me right out. Joyeaux has manors here in Shropshire left unvisited for far too long. His troubles with Chester have kept him up in the north defending the caput of his honour."**

**Cadfael nodded thoughtfully. "Or perhaps he prefers that his lady be safe out of Ranulf's writ while he himself is with the king at Oxford?"**

"**Perhaps. But I think my lord earl has learned his lesson and will leave Joyeaux, his lands and his lady well alone in the future." There was open pleasure in Hugh's voice. Any discomfiture suffered by their ambitious neighbor to the north was welcome to the Sheriff of Shropshire. **

**Ranulf had chosen to celebrate his victory at Lincoln, more than a year ago now, by an attempt my Lord de Joyeaux's very respectable honour north of Cheshire. No doubt he'd thought it easy prey with its lord a prisoner, along with the King, in the south. If so my lady de Joyeaux had showed him his error, defending her own at least as doughtily as her lord himself could have done. A very valiant lady whatever her lineage or weakness for southern luxuries. **

"**I hear my Lord of Chester has no ear for music," Cadfael said musing. Hugh turned his head, an expressive brow arched in question and Cadfael explained; "If Ranulf had heard the troubadour songs out of Holy Land he might well have thought twice before assailing his new neighbor." He added inconsequentially: "Joyeaux still uses the device of the Castellan of Jerusalem."**

"**And why not?" Hugh asked. "Surely he has earned the right!"**

**-----**


	2. Chapter 2

Brother Cadfael emerged from the enclave just after Prime, his scrip of medicaments at his belt, and turned westward towards bridge and town. He passed the mill pond and the house being prepared for the noble guest, windows and doors were all open to the summer air and the rhythmic sweep of energetically wielded brooms could be heard from within. Outside a young brother scythed down grass in the overgrown garden while another pulled up brambles. My lady de Joyeaux was due today and already a small crowd of the idle and curious was gathered to await her coming, with more appearing by dribs and drabs from town and countryside to join them. The distinguished guest's arrival was far from a matter of indifference to Cadfael, and his perpetual sin of curiosity, but at the moment he had pressing business elsewhere. There would doubtless be chances enough to glimpse the lady even if he missed her first appearance.

He climbed the Wyle to High Street then descended by way of Maerdol to the western gate and the Welsh bridge beyond which stood the populous suburb of Frankwell, a small town in its own right, its houses and shops lining the highway towards Wales. Cadfael's goal was the inn, not far from the bridge and convenient for travelers come late after the town gates closed.

He went in by way of the stable yard rather then through the common hall, crossing the cobbles to the wing at the back. Dame Margaret Taverner had been waiting and watching for him, the door opened almost as soon as he hove into sight and she was out on the step gushing anxious words like a freshet in full spate:

"Thank God you're come, Brother. We must have more of that poppy syrup of yours, my poor boy barely closed his eyes last night for the pain. And I'm sure he's feverish, though it does come and go. And I fear there is a whiff, just a whiff of corruption from under his dressing -"

Cadfael interrupted the flow, taking the lady by the arm and pouring soothing words into her ear as he steered her through the big inn kitchen and past the busy maids and pot boys towards a door at the far end. Margaret Taverner had been formed by God for comfort and good sense. Warm in color, round and ripe of flesh with a bright eye - blue as the cloudless summer sky above - that normally showed the good nature and quick wits necessary to her calling. But now those eyes were red from tears and sleeplessness and the normally competent hands wrung one another in helpless anxiety.

The door led to a dry larder where Cadfael's patient lay. The family quarters above were accessible by a stair from the stable yard but Cadfael had ruled against moving him. Jack Taverner, Dame Margaret's treasured only son, lay between linen sheets on a good wool stuffed mattress. He was a large boned and well fleshed boy of sixteen but his tow colored hair clung damply to his brow and his cheeks shone a hectic red.

Brother Cadfael went directly to the opposite door and opened it onto the yard before turning in reproach to Dame Margaret. "How many times must I tell you to leave this door open for coolness sake?"

"We closed it against the night air," Jack's sister, Orielda, pleaded softly from the inner door having abandoned her work in the kitchen. "Everyone knows how bad night air is for the sick."

Cadfael shook his head resignedly. "Night air is no different from day, Girl, save for the one being cooler this time of year. Leave that door open!" He turned to his patient. "Now then, Jack, let us see how you do."

The boy was suffering from a compound fracture of the right thighbone where a traveler's restive mount had caught him, the sharp edge of the hoof lacerating the flesh from without as the snapped bone did from within. It was in all conscience a wound serious enough to justify his womenfolk's fears. Fortunately Cadfael's experience had included many such injuries - got in battle or accident - and he knew very well what to do for them.

Cadfael had guessed that Jack's supposed fever was due to nothing worse than the over warm air of this stuffy little room, made thicker by the odors of flour and meal and pot herbs. And sure enough the cool morning breeze eddying through the open door swiftly dried the sweat on his brow and soothed the unhealthy red from his cheeks. Nor was any corruption to be found beneath his dressing, only misused young flesh knitting with almost indecent speed.

"You do very, well boy Jack and are a credit to me," Cadfael said heartily. "Now, what is this I hear of pain?"

The young man cast a reproachful look at his mother. "I won't say it doesn't ache, but no worse than the times I've overdone and strained myself. Naught I cannot bear!"

Cadfael looked gravely at Dame Margaret. "Syrup of poppy is a true gift from God but if overused the body comes to crave it as a drunkard does his wine, and then there is sad work breaking its hold - if it can be done at all. So spend what I give you as sparingly as you might! As for you, young man," he continued, returning his attention to his patient. "There is no need to play the hero. A spoonful or two in a posset bedtimes will help you to sleep." He climbed stiffly to his feet, brushing at his knees. "You may give the boy another spoonful or so if he should ask for it, mistress, but do not press it on him! And you, Jack, do not hesitate to ask if you must, for sleep is as necessary to you as food but you are wise to do without if you can." With that Cadfael took the good dame by the arm and steered her firmly from her son's room. She went with him willingly, bubbling over with thanks and promises and tears.

"T'is you I should be dosing with poppy," he admonished lightly, but serious enough beneath. "You must use yourself more kindly, Margaret! You have a business here to run and cannot do so if exhausted from watching by your son's bed. There is no need of it I promise you. The boy does very well and all the signs are set for a full recovery. Do you give him a bell or clapper that he might use to call for attendance if he needs it and go to your own bed and sleep! I know you, daughter, and vapors and hysterics are most unlike you."

"So they are," she dabbed her eyes. "I have done myself no credit, but I have been so afraid! Jack is my only son."

"I know, I know. And it was a bad wound I grant you. But all goes well and soon he'll be a hale as ever he was save for perhaps an ache in the bone when it promises rain like a wise old grandfather." And, praise God, she laughed and some color came back into cheeks normally round and rosy but gone pale and thin these last days.

The stableyard was no longer still and empty but full of color and movement. A fine tall blood bay with gold on his harness stood proud and scornful as a king as grooms fussed around him. Nearby two stout hackneys carried a litter, its tapestried curtains looped back to show the well cushioned chair within.

Cadfael paused in the doorway to gaze appreciatively. "You have important guests."

"The lord and lady of Clun," Margaret answered, mind still on her son. "On their way to you at the Abbey but came late and had to bide here overnight."

"Do you tell me so? They are early for the fair." Cadfael answered with quickening interest. Helias' kin, and even more early for his profession. Unless they were come to prevent it?

"Perhaps they have other business with you." Margaret shrugged. The affairs of barons concerned her not at all.

Perhaps! The reclaiming of a younger son maybe - or so Cadfael hoped. The lady emerged from the hall, maid and gentlewoman in close attendance. Helias favored his mother; here was the same rounded face with good, firm bones beneath. A shapely mouth set in a decisive line and high, squared brow framed by wimple and hood.

A handsome lady but the young man following her went far beyond her. Tall, broad in the shoulders but slim of waist and flank and notably long and well turned of leg his fine figure was set off by a green silk gown with embroidered borders. A finely tooled belt of gilded leather supported an equally ornate dagger on his hip. The head topping this superb body was capped by thick, golden hair, cut straight across the brow and curling into the neck below the chin. The nobly boned face with its high arched nose was inclined downward, large deep set eyes bent on the girl at his side, as his long supple mouth curved in a smile of pleasure.

And no wonder, Orielda Taverner was a sight to gladden the heart of any young man. Slender as a willow wand she tipped his shoulder, the perfect oval of her face with its wide set cornflower blue eyes and dimpled chin tilted upward to glow radiance back upon her beaming admirer. She had pulled the net from her head and her hair, golden as his, flowed in curls down her back, all the prettier for their disorder. She shone like a maiden in a troubador's song her beauty set off rather than eclipsed by her plain work-a-day dress.

Dame Margaret, still absorbed in fears and hopes for her son, turned to go back to him failing to note her daughter's perilous brightness, but Cadfael saw it with apprehension. And yet - why should a fair young maid not take pleasure in the notice of a handsome man? And why should he not be captivated by this vision of beauty however humble her circumstances? A hundred, no a thousand times every day young men must touch sleeves with young women and each take momentary light, only to pass on and forget in the next moment.

With manifest reluctance the young lord dragged his eye from the fairness beside him to light on Cadfael. He bent to ask a question of the girl, received her answer with a smile then kissed her hand in farewell, as he would have taken leave of a great lady, and left her radiant, nursing that same hand, to cross the cobbles briskly towards Cadfael.

"God give you good day, Brother!" he said in a full, ringing voice and with a very suitable reverence. "Let me present myself to you, Henry de Say of Clun. I have a brother in your house -"

"Named Helias," Cadfael finished for him. "I know the lad well, he assists me in the gardens."

Young Lord Henry kindled. "Do you tell me so?" He swung around to call to his mother, now comfortably installed in her chair. "Mother, this brother knows Helias, he works with him!"

She too brightened into a smile. "Is it so? Come closer, Brother, if you will and tell me how my boy does."

"Very well indeed," Cadfael said, approaching readily. "A good worker and good student, careful and devote in his following of the rule. No we have no complaint to make of Helias." He watched her closely, surely that was love as well as pride shining there in her eyes?

"Helias was always my good boy. Not like this tall rogue beside you!" but the glance she threw her handsome eldest was indulgent rather than chiding. "Sorry I was to lose him, even to Mother Church, but he would go and who was I to stand in his way?"

"His mother," Henry said dryly.

My Lady Clun snorted and leaned forward to confide in Cadfael, "Hal cannot reconcile himself to losing his brother, nor understand how Helias might prefer to make a name and fame for himself, even in the cloister, rather than tag forever at his elder brother's heels."

A large hand fell on Cadfael's shoulder. "Are you headed back to your Abbey now, Brother? Walk with me and tell me of my little brother."

They followed the horse litter out of the yard side by side Henry curbing his long stride to Cadfael's pace and leading his horse with servants and sumpter ponies trailing behind.

"I know very well that I cast a long shadow," he said quietly and seriously. "And that a younger brother might well tire of trailing behind and seek to forge his own path but there are other ways than the cloister." Henry slanted a smile sidelong at his companion. "I would not say as much to you, Brother, but you have the look to me of a man who saw a deal of the world and of men before taking the cowl. Does my Helias seem to you as one meant for the church?"

"I have had my doubts," Cadfael conceded, a thoughtful eye on his companion's face.

"Have you suspected us of forcing him?" Henry asked, and answered himself. "Of course you have, and why not? Such things are done every day. But I promise you this is no such case. The honor of Clun is great enough to spare a manor or two to a younger brother and I can attest that Helias is good enough a man of his hands to win further lands for himself in these unquiet days. She," he nodded towards the litter ahead of them, "sees mitres and cardinal hats, nay even the papal tiara itself! in his future and perhaps she is right, for Helias is cleverer than I, and I am no fool. I would not for the world stand in the way of a true vocation but I cannot believe that Helias was meant for such a life..." his low, heated voice trailed off unhappily.

"I have been reminded that the choice, mistaken or no, is his to make," Cadfael said wryly, remembering Hugh. "Helias knows very well what he is doing. Tell me, could he have a reason other then ambition for embracing the monastic life?"

"What other reason could he have?" Henry wondered.

Cadfael cracked a rueful smile. "A girl usually."

Henry laughed aloud at that. "Oh no, not Helias! He has never been one for the girls. Not that he has abnormal appetites either," the brother added hastily. "I mean only that he is not given to the sins of the flesh."

"Emulation then?" Cadfael suggested. "Did you brother have any friend or a teacher or kinsman he admired who took the cowl?"

"That is more likely," Henry said slowly. "Our father, before his death, received the habit as is often done. And our uncle, our mother's brother, who was on Crusade also took vows as an anchorite. And then there is our sister, Isabella, who was promised to God at her birth and took the veil at Brewood when we were boys."

"Was Helias close to this uncle of yours, or to your sister?"

Henry shrugged helplessly. "I would not have thought so. Indeed I would have said that he and I were nearer each other than to any of them, and God knows I have no leaning to the religious life!"

"I saw that plain enough," Cadfael said with amusement, then; "What is this?" for the litter had come to a dead stop in front of them.

"Hold Flambeau for me, if you would, Brother," Henry said surrendering the reins, then strode ahead to see what the matter was.


	3. Chapter 3

News of the Lady Joyeaux's visit had spread from the twin centers of Abbey and Castle sending ripples of pleasurable anticipation throughout the town and foregates and even into the nearby countryside. Only the idle or feckless would sacrifice a mornings work to await the spectacle of her arrival but even the virtuously industrious managed to find excuses to be on High street, or the Wyle or Castle way at the right hour.

Appetites had been pleasantly wetted by the passage of my lady's baggage train; two large and well loaded carts, each drawn by a team of five with a driver in scarlet jerkin mounted upon the lead horse. Grooms in the same livery, each riding good blood stock and leading a pack pony, four in all, every one loaded with a pair of large chests covered in scarlet leather. And behind them came a troop of mounted men-servants ranging from a magnificent figure in silk gown and silver chain on a well bred hackney to leather coated grooms on sturdy welsh ponies.

News of them had spread from mouth to mouth and on the very breeze inspiring even those who had so far resisted temptation to drop their work and hurry to see the rest of the pageant. It was this solid wall of happy, roused humanity that had stopped Cadfael and his companions in their tracks.

"Not a chance of getting through short of riding harmless folk down," Henry of Clun told his mother. "We must make the best of it and see the sights with the rest of them."

Cadfael was more than willing to do so. A mounting block in front of a nearby shop raised him above the crowded heads to get a good view of the Wyle sloping down to the bridge. They had not long to wait. A wail of pipe music, eerie and eastern, stirred old memories in Cadfael of days long past. Then a man at arms, mounted and armed cap-a-pie flashed into view, a scarlet banner marked with a white cross streaming above his head. And behind him came the lady herself.

She was a small thing, and slender as a girl but sat with grace and confidence on a tall golden bay whose gracile lines bespoke Arab blood. Her dress was as eastern as the music; a brocaded purple caftan over filmy red-violet skirts, a sash of vivid green and yellow around her tiny waist and a twisted turban of purple and yellow silks with a veil that covered her face to the eyes. She glittered from head to toe with golden ornaments and ropes of milky pearls hung to her waist. This vision of eastern splendor shone only for an instant before being eclipsed behind building and people but left behind a most vivid impression of fiery grace, spirit and beauty.

Cadfael blinked the vision from his eyes. Perhaps she was a saracen princess after all. Certainly she looked the part, even as Hugh had said. Behind her came a bevy of women, a bedazzlement of brilliant silks, filmy muslins and glistening jewels, the smaller figures of children, and finally a half dozen more mounted men at arms.

And then all were past and it was over. After a long moment the crowd remembered to move and breath and hundreds of tongues burst simultaneously into loud expressions of delight and wonder.

Lord Henry, from the back of his tall roan, had seen it all. He looked, eyes on a level, at Cadfael still on his block. "Well-a-day! And who was that?"

"My Lady de Joyeaux of Cheadle come to guest at our abbey, like yourselves," Cadfael replied.

The young man's eye turned inward and his face closed over the news, startled and reassessing. "Of course, I should have known. Thank you, Brother." And he bent to pass the name to his mother in her litter.

Cadfael gazed thoughtfully at the curve of Henry's back. He had not recognized the lady, no, but he had expected her to be here. Interesting.

-----

Brother Porter greeted my lord and lady of Clun respectfully and saw them safe in Brother Denis, the hospitaller's, hands before turning to Cadfael with a twinkle. "Well, Brother, for once you have missed all the excitement."

"That I did not," Cadfael answered. "I saw our illustrious guest pass and her men busy about her house. Where is the lady herself?"

"With the Abbot." Brother Albin shook his head, rueful and amused. "I tell you, Cadfael, I fear for the vocations of our younger brethren! Even I, old and staid as I am had stirrings I have not felt in many a year when that lady unveiled herself."

"We are still men, Albin," Cadfael answered comfortably. "No harm in being reminded of the fact."

"Not perhaps for old sinners like you and me who planted wild oats enough in our misspent youths, but what of the early cloistered who will barely recognize the prickings of the flesh when they feel them?" Albin shrugged the problem aside. "It's well you're back, you're needed at the stable on the Horse-Fair. Our guest's marshal of horse complains of some illness or injury among his pack animals."

"I will go to him directly."

Cadfael elected to cut through the cloister to the rear gate that opened directly across from the Abbey's barns and stable without the walls. He heard Prior Robert's voice holding mellifluously forth before he caught sight on him standing in the sunlite garth and then sight of who he was talking to. Cadfael could not forbear to stop and admire.

The Prior's audience was two ladies, slender and young and very lovely, their dress of eastern silks proclaiming them members of the bevy that had followed my lady Joyeaux, one all in flaming shades of orange, scarlet and tawny; the other cool and serene in tints of green and blue and turquoise.

She in the orange was turned towards Cadfael and even from across the garth he could see the suave modeling of honey gold flesh over fine bones. The lovely line of cheek and brow, the lift of the small chin and proud curve of the long slim throat brought back warm and most un-monastic memories.

Bianca had had such a cheek and chin and throat. His Venetian Bianca, not really beautiful but seeming so with her grace and proud bearing. Bianca of the long dark eyes that flashed rather than melted, as cutting as her sharp and clever tongue.

This girl's eyes were long and dark too, the sunlight finding flecks of gold in their lucent brown, and they did melt as they gazed attentively up at Robert, full red lips curved and receptive, tucked into deep dimples at the corners. Not Bianca's mouth - which had been wide and generous - yet somehow familiar...

She in cool green had her profile to Cadfael showing a nose with just a hint of the aquiline. And she was as fair as the other girl was dark with creamy skin and light eyes of either blue or gray, set off by lines of black kohl just like her sister's. For they could only be sisters so alike were they in feature if not in coloring. There was the same suave modeling of smooth young flesh over elegant bones, the same mouth, lips slightly parted, and the same long almond shape of the eye.

Cadfael looked at Robert and his own mouth curled in a tolerant, almost sympathetic smile. Mature in vocation and genuinely devout Robert was - but not dead! And no living man could fail to expand and preen under such eyes, much less one so naturally vain as the Prior. Ah, poor Robert! Cadfael shook his head and moved on.

The animals of my lady Joyeaux's baggage train had been rubbed down, watered and fed. Cadfael passed down the row of stalls to sounds of contented munching. At the end of the stable the burly figure of a man, stripped business-like to his shirt, nursed the drooping head of a brown pony.

"Here am I, Brother Cadfael, the herbalist here. They tell me you have need of me, Master Marshal?"

A graying head pulled away from the horse to turn a broad, square visage towards Cadfael, mouth agap, eyes wide and wild. "Cadfael?"

He stopped at gaze and studied the face earnestly in the dim half-light, subtracted the effects of the passage of years and recognition dawned. "Sam? Sammel Archer, is it truly you?"

"None other!" And then Cadfael's old friend began to laugh.

----

He laughed for quite sometime. It was only with difficulty that Cadfael was able to call him back to the business at hand - that is to the ailing horse. Cadfael diagnosed an insect bite rubbed into an open sore over the course of the day's travel and applied a dressing from the medicine chest he kept in the stable. By then Sammel was sober enough to be coherent, though his eyes still sparkled with merriment, and perhaps a touch of mischief as they left the stable together.

"No doubt you are surprised to find me here, in this habit," Cadfael began, a little disgruntled.

But Sam shook his head. "No. No, come to think of it I find that far less startling than finding you settled down as a farmer and family man." He chuckled again. "Ah, I should have known it was a waste of time to seek you in Wales. When did you ever do the expected thing, Sergeant?"

"You have been looking for me?" Cadfael asked, startled as they passed through the wide back gates into the enclosure.

"More keeping an eye peeled. You did say you were going home, and when we chanced to have business in Wales my lady thought to look for you in Trefiw -"

Cadfael stopped him with a hand by the stable-yard pale. "Your lady? Why should she be looking for me?" It was not an entirely honest question. An answer had already occurred to him, but it seemed hardly possible.

Sammel Archer, now Sammel Marshal grinned widely. "And why not? Why shouldn't a lass want to see her father again?"


End file.
